


Requiem

by VivianCavanaugh



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Short, but not that short, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 12:26:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9607568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivianCavanaugh/pseuds/VivianCavanaugh
Summary: That day, Sebastian renewed his vow as a butler. These were his words: “I am devotedly in your service, until the day lies become truth.”





	

A pale hand opened the heavy blood-red curtains, allowing the light to come in at once, reflecting itself on the many crystal statues resting on top of a majestic wooden desk. As he hummed lowly, the possessor of the hand tidied meticulously, with only a whisk, at a speed beyond imagination. Cleaning the fur rug, the divan, the huge book collection, the fireplace, no detail left forgotten, no dust particles in sight. But what is that muffled, strikingly long sound? It is, of course, the sound of the finest shoes in England, adorned with golden stripes, a fine heel, all of it slowed down down do––wn as the cleaner moved faster and faster. In a moment he lifted the window open, completely silent, ran to the garden and picked an exquisite bouquet, returning just in time to fill a vase with clean water and place it on the bureau.

 

The strong scent of roses was slowly but surely filling the room, giving it a sort of sensuous air. A figure entered, giving a blasé look towards the now-shining room and to the butler bowing lightly, with grace. The Earl walked to the desk, flinging himself quite dramatically on the fauteuil, all the while sighing, resembling as much a troubled soul as he wanted to. Clicking his tongue, he looked his servant up and down, seemingly with little interest.

 

“I would like a chocolate mousse, Sebastian, and don't rush it like you always do, you'll spoil it surely!”

 

“Of course, my lord, I shall have it brought to you at once. Anything else you might desire?”

 

“For you to drop that awful smirk, I am no plaything, you must know by now.” said the Earl with ease.

 

“Why, my lord, I could never think of yourself as such.” Sebastian left the room after bowing yet another time, resuming the humming as soon as he was out of earshot.

 

His master's azure eye followed him. He was deep in thought. How could he solve the Queen's new case? What multitude of choices would he face from now on? This story, of him and his demon of a butler had but only one purpose – that of revenge. He had said he was not some plaything, but, in truth, they were always toying with each other, like a _danse macabre,_ never ending. Sebastian was his toy as much as he was Sebastian's. One day, he mused, he would wake up and it would no longer be a game. He would become captive, fallen in his own trap, much like is falling in love.

 

Of love he knew not much. His parents were a wound too deep for him to love still. He could remember, with great suffering, who he used to be. He was as happy as a child could be, and that must mean he loved the same. But now, with his mind aged before his body, he knew that love was not happiness and happiness was not love. He let his mind wander to Madam Red. Her burning passion eventually led to death. Maybe he had loved her, the last family he had, her hair red like a flame, her dress red like blood, herself a representation of Red even in her last moment. The love she had experienced was transformed, through ever growing bitterness, misfortune and colour, in a sort of blinding hate.

 

Of hate, well, that was an entirely different story. He knew hate, he fought it and embraced it, he let himself drown in it, only to resurface seconds before losing conscience. The result of his hate was Sebastian. The price was his corrupted soul.

 

He had changed, and was still changing, his body transforming with each passing year, his mind maturing with each passing day. His soul was surely darkening even faster. As he thought that, a strange memory clawed its way to his attention, brought back by the still lingering perfume of roses.

 

It was the day of Sebastian's official revival, after the suite of murders that had taken place on the Phantomhive Estate. The charade held, a clever machination to fulfill the Queen's orders and, courtesy of Sebastian, to give the young writer a story to haunt him, but also to drive him to create even better stories.

 

This little play of theirs proved once more how fickle the demon truly was, how the Earl himself was a child of mischief and cunningness, and how they got along so perfectly well – like a God of Death remarked once, they do make quite a pair. Sebastian was supposedly dead, so he had to be resurrected somehow. They resorted to a common situation in their time, the corpse that wasn't actually a corpse, many buried alive, the bell attached to the coffin, just in case things were not what they seemed to be.

 

 Seeing the butler in his coffin made for a peaceful view. He was placed on a bed made of white lilies, for purity. His tombstone read “May you be in heaven a full half hour before the devil knows you're dead”, as to protect his soul from the devil. In the midst of this complete and utter irony, his mind flew to the roses growing in their garden. If he were to pick a flower suited for a demon, he had the feeling it would be a rose. With their delicate appearance, their soft colours, they could fool anyone. When one tried to pick the flower, he would get stung by its thorns. When one stayed long enough near bushes of roses, the scent would slowly intoxicate him. These flowers represent passion, strong feelings, the kind of feelings demons feed on. And as he thought all that, he could feel a claw wiping his tear away, he could feel a soft pressure on his lips and, after that, himself descending into nothingness.

 

That day, Sebastian renewed his vow as a butler. Those were his words: “I am devotedly in your service, until the day lies become truth.”

 

“My lord?” He was violently brought back to the present by a suave, a bit amused voice.

 

“What was that?”

 

“I have prepared the _mousse au chocolat_ the master has requested. I hope it will be to your liking.”

 

“Very well. I have a question for you. How do demons extract the souls they were promised?”

 

“I am not sure it is appropriate to answer that, given that you're still a child, my lord.”

 

“Humour me, Sebastian.”

 

The butler looked him straight into the eye, seeing deeper and deeper, until he found the flame that was his soul, black like sin and blue like the sky. _Ciel._

 

“Through a kiss.”

**Author's Note:**

> i finally wrote something over 1000 words
> 
> i hope they are not too out of character  
> feel free to point out mistakes of any kind 
> 
> leave a comment, your opinion matters to me!


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